


Rescued

by delusionalintrospection



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-24 00:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15618540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalintrospection/pseuds/delusionalintrospection
Summary: In more then one way. A short fiction commissioned from Savannah Ruler on Lioden regarding her OCs and her world. I own nothing but the actual writing here; the characters, world, and setting belong to her.





	Rescued

_ They aren't coming. _

 

_ They aren't coming, stupid boy, silly, stupid boy, you know better, you've always known better, you can only count on one person. _

 

_ You can only trust one person. _

 

_ No one is coming. No one is coming and you are going to rot here. _

 

He hadn't really, of course. Trusted. In fact, he wasn't entirely certain trust was in him; that he was even capable of it anymore. He wondered, sometimes, if it was possible for emotions to utterly die off; especially in something like himself. He wanted to- especially Ithaca, if no one else, if no one else  _ ever _ , then Ithaca- but he couldn't. And he knew he knew better, anyway. Honestly, what did he have to offer them? What did he give them besides freedom- besides escape from situations that were less than ideal? And frankly, they didn't need  _ him _ for that. Hell, if anything, they'd probably be glad to be rid of-

_ Stop it, you enormous twat.  _ He wasn't sure if the voice was his own or  _  hers _ , sharp and scolding, like a mother even though he was older. She never took nonsense, Ithaca. Unsquashable, too; couldn't keep her down easily. He chuckled to himself, falling back against the wall of the cell he was in and squeezing his eyes shut. There was physical pain- no one had been gentle with him, for damn sure- but it didn't compare to the rest of it. The pain he tried, very hard, to wall off, to shut down, to keep locked behind doors he'd long since trained himself to slam firmly shut.

No. They would come for him, and they would rescue him, and he would feel like a fool for ever having doubted it. He knew they would. They owed him. They  _ owed  _ him. They would come.

______

 

_ "There is one person in this world you can trust, Kylior. Remember that. Relying on others is exposing your belly; showing your weakness. Eventually, they will fail you. Everyone will fail you."  _

 

Despair turned to rage like the waves of the ocean; washing in and washing out, unpredictable. He had always been like that- he kept it under locked and key, trained himself to keep himself under control, but he often felt like his emotions tried to carry him away, to rule him and own him. And it was the same now- now, when he was  _ furious _ because he had saved them, had pulled them out of the muck and mire and given them a purpose, given them something to be proud of, made them  _ better _ , and this was how they repaid him? This was how they showed their loyalty? Leaving him here, abandoning him, throwing him right back to the wolves?  _ Traitors _ . He should have known. Should have seen. If there was one thing he had always,  _ always _ good at, better than anyone around him, it was knowing people. Reading them. Predicting them. And yet he'd let himself fall on them, rely on them, trust them, and he-

 

-he was as big an idiot as he was fairly positive his father assumed him to be. He gritted his teeth, bit back hard on the snarl that wanted to escape. He would make them pay for this- he would make them sorry, he would-

 

His hands went to his hair, his head, clenching his fists there and taking a deep, slow breath. He would have to figure a way out of this situation, first. Figure out a way to free himself, and then go from there. Revenge could wait. Would have to wait. After all, it was best served cold, as the old saying went, correct? Correct. One step at a time. One problem at a time. And revenge, as nice as it would be...that was not important. He took another breath, slow and steady, pulled himself together and forced himself to  _ focus _ . They didn't matter. They couldn't matter. They were insignificant. 

 

But even as he thought it, he remembered Axum's rumbling laugh. 

___________

 

_ "I told you to stop being foolish. Your mother is  _ **_dead_ ** _ , and not coming back. Tears are weakness, boy, and I will not allow weakness in my home."  _

 

It was well guarded. Well protected. They had eyes on him at nearly all times and had been told not to speak to him; not to listen to him speak. They knew- someone here knew- exactly where he was strong, and were trying to work around him. That opened an entirely new can of very uncomfortable worms, and he grimaced to himself.  _ One problem at a time, one problem at a time _ . He swallowed, shook his head, and tried to chase away the nagging, gnawing, haunting memories- the haunting voice that seemed to bounce off the walls of where he was being held to echo over and over again in his ears, like a broken recording. Like someone had left it on in his head just to try and torment him. Not a bad idea, really, finding what someone was bothered by, afraid of, weakened by, and trapping them in a room with it. He'd remember that, for something, someday, maybe- maybe. Who knew? 

 

He wanted out. It was cramped and claustrophobic and he wanted  _ out _ . Kylior was very, very good at keeping himself under very, very tight control, but it was jerking and yanking at it's leash with all it's might. He was going to scream, and cry, and there was nothing to lash out at and he could feel that turning inward. He knew from experience with  _ himself _ that that was the worst thing to happen; if he let everything go  _ inward _ he'd be useless to nigh everyone, especially himself. Elidi had always been good at that, at keeping him from turning inward, with her calm refusal to let him slip and fall and quiet steadiness. 

 

No. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about them. He wasn't supposed to be wanting them. He wasn't supposed to be hoping, quietly, desperately, in some faint part of his mind that should never, ever be allowed to see light- that they were still coming. That maybe he'd really found a  _ family _ , people who  _ cared _ , not just wanted whatever they could get- 

 

he shouldn't be hoping. 

 

_________

  
  


_ They'regoneforevernooneiscomingforyouyouworthless,useless,unwanted,stupid,howcouldyoueverthinkthey'dwantyouyou'regoingtodieherenoonelovesyoufilthydisgusting- _

 

"I don't think so." 

 

A tiny voice in the waves, a tiny light in the dark, Aaliyah standing warey and watchful but smiling, her twisted, crooked little smile. 

 

"I don't think so." 

_ ______ _

  
  


_ Bang _ . 

 

The sound jolted him from sleep, from restfulness-light and poor, but restfulness all the same-to waking in less then a moment. 

  
  


_ Bang _ . 

There, again, echoing down the halls, the sound of- breaking, of crashing-and then voices. Voices he  _ knew _ . 

  
  


But that couldn't be. They couldn't be here. He'd already come to terms with what had happened; that he had been abandoned, left here to die and rot or worse as they took their newfound freedom and love for each other and laughed behind his back at how  _ stupid _ he was, how he thought he was so clever and so skilled and yet he'd bought into the ruse hook, line, and sinker- stupid, desperate, needy Kylor, not nearly as strong or distant as he thought he was. He'd accepted it, he understood it- they couldn't be here. They  _ couldn't _ , it wasn't how these  things worked, it didn't happen, no one came back. No one ever came back. 

 

"Kylior!" Oh but he knew that voice, didn't he? He wasn't hallucinating, or dreaming, was he? He had to be awake. This had to be real. But- 

 

"Kylior, get your hat! We're leaving!" Laughter in the voice, and he  _ did _ know it; Ithaca. Ithaca's voice, coming closer with every passing moment, the sound of a fight just behind her. "You might wanna hurry, though. Axum's having a little too much fun!" 

 

"...It sounds like you are, too." His voice was hoarse, rough, scratchy. When was the last time he'd spoken out loud? He coughed, painfully, and tried again. "What took you so long?" Like he'd never had a doubt. Like he hadn't thought himself abandoned, left alone, hadn't thought-

-he couldn't let her see. She'd never forgive him if she saw. He forced himself to turn  _ off _ , to meet her rounding the corner at top speed with a smirk and an arched eyebrow. Her hair was flying behind her, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and oh how she  _ grinned _ when she saw him.  Her grin faded as she got to where he was being kept, and despite his best efforts- he felt like she knew, somehow. She  _ saw _ , somehow, even though she shouldn't have been able to see through him. No one could, not even the ones who thought they were better than him. No one. 

  
  


But somehow, she could. She did. He watched it dance over her face- anger, sadness, annoyance, frustration- and then it stopped, and settled into that playful smirk again. "Come  _ on _ . Stop standing there staring at me like I grew two heads, will ya?"  She was letting it go. Letting  _ him _ go- letting him off the hook. He wasn't sure if he hated her for that or not. "We're here to get you back. You gotta help out a little with that." 

 

"You- came for me." Quiet, dumb, and he  _ did _ hate himself for sounding so small, so  _ weak _ \- 

 

"'Course, dummy." She smiled at him, honestly this time, and as the door to his holding area opened with a  _ click _ , she reached out her rough, small hand to take his rough large one. "Always will." 

 

_ Always will _ . 

 

And, stupid as it was, stupid as  _ he _ was- he believed her. 

  
  


 


End file.
